Dastan

The clock struck seven in the evening, and a tranquil silence reigned in the room. Dastan sat on the sofa, legs crossed, a notebook resting on his thigh. In his hand, he held a pencil, gliding it precisely across the paper. His concentration was absolute; each stroke brought to life a new design, another piece for his growing collection of tattoos.

Meanwhile, she lay on the rug, staring at the ceiling with a mixture of boredom and tenderness on her face. Dastan, with his serious demeanor and absolute concentration, was charming to her, but at the same time, she longed to steal a little of his attention. With a mischievous smile, she sat up and slid over to the sofa, leaning back against it behind him.

First, she brought her face close to his, so close she could feel the warmth of his skin. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He barely reacted, keeping his gaze on his notebook. Then came another kiss, this time closer to his jaw. Dastan frowned slightly, but said nothing.

Far from giving up, she decided to raise the stakes. She slid down the sofa until she was sitting next to him and, with a swift movement, planted a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Dastan frowned slightly, though not in annoyance. He sighed and spoke without taking his eyes off his notebook.

" What's wrong, babe? I'm busy, " he asked in a serious but not annoyed tone.